Backdraft
by bellmare
Summary: fairytales don't always end happily, for it's always misery that loves its company. — shadow!Chie/shadow!Yukiko, ensemble, for Miss Hanamura.


**Notes; Spoilers for the Bad End in which shadows overrun Inaba. **

.

It's been a week since Souji went back to the city.

It's cold, cold for spring, cold for the time of the year. Yukiko shivers at the touch of snow against the back of her neck, oozing down her spine; she turns the collar of her coat up high against her neck and tightens her scarf, stuffs her mittened hands deeper into her pockets and breathes out, watching her breath fog the air. Her and Chie's bootprints make a winding path in the slush; when she looks back their tracks are already melting, seeping into the asphalt.

The skies are a dull yellow, like they have been for months now. Yukiko doesn't mind, though - it's just something else to get accustomed to, just like the fog, just like the chill setting into her bones.

(Just like the memory of guilt hanging over the back of her head, a perpetual sword of Damocles.)

Sometimes, she thinks they shouldn't have done it, shouldn't have gone and thrown Namatame into the T.V. because - because it didn't seem like the right thing, they weren't murderers, for goodness sake. Except now they might as well be, because after that things only just got worse after that, anyway.

"Chie," she says and Chie stops and looks back at her. Yukiko doesn't really understand how Chie can stand the cold like that, but that's the way it's always been - Chie is tough and resilient and can keep her cool and Yukiko, she's quick to react and keeps everything bottled up until it all burns away to nothing. "I was just wondering, don't you feel like the days ... I don't know, aren't they so empty now?"

"They're shorter than last year, I guess," Chie says; the snow crunches underfoot as she trudges over. "That's what happens when it's winter, isn't it?"

"But it's not winter any more," Yukiko says.

Chie looks at her, sidelong. In the yellowish evening light her eyes are stained amber and gold. Yukiko's sure her mind's just playing with her, because when she blinks they're brown, brown like they've always been.

.

It's April and the days are still cold and foggy. The glasses don't help much, any more - but it's better if they don't wear them, now.

Lately, it's been getting harder and harder to talk to the others. Maybe it's because Souji's gone, and the glue holding the team together's dissolved like it was never there. Maybe it's because of the way everyone retreats back into themselves, how Yukiko starts thinking about how to fly again.

She's always wanted to leave Inaba.

... hasn't she?

.

It's May.

"I don't want you to talk to anyone else, Yukiko."

She stares into Chie's eyes and something burns in the pit of her belly. "Why," she snaps. "They're your friends too, aren't they?"

"Ha, ha," Chie says mechanically. "You were always so full of dreams and stuff, Yukiko. Friends don't abandon each other, you know ... and I'm the only one who hasn't abandoned you, right?"

.

"Man, Inaba's really become more of a ghost town," Yosuke snipes. He huddles into his jacket and stares straight ahead into the shopping district. The shopfronts are boarded up, everything's dead and quiet; he stalks right past Tatsumi textiles without breaking stride and Yukiko feels a bit sorry for Kanji-kun, he just wanted to finally embrace his true self, after all, it wasn't his fault. "I can't wait until I get my license and get the hell outta here."

She gets the feeling that Yosuke doesn't really like hanging around her much ever since she started getting closer to Chie - but then and again, she's pretty sure he doesn't like hanging out with any of them much, especially not after the end of the year when the fog was only just setting in. It'd been terrible, those last three months with Souji because the team was falling apart even then and by the time he left he was talking about how he just wanted to get back to the city already and not have to bother with anyone.

Maybe it started long before, though. Maybe it'd already started when they pushed Namatame into the T.V. in November and then Adachi disappeared into the fog and red-black skies in December, and they just hadn't noticed. That's the only explanation, she thinks, for the myriad eyes that watch from the shadows between buildings as her and Yosuke trudge through the slush. It's the only reason she has for the sun starting to burn black and the skies bleeding red, the air dull and hazy.

"This place is shit," Yosuke's saying as they head into the southern end of the shopping district. "Small, meaningless, empty, it'll be gone soon anyway. Souji and Teddie had the right idea, getting out of here when they did. WHat kind of fucking friends are they, huh, leaving us high and dry like this? Should've had the courtesy to see if the rest of us wanted out of this shithole too."

"Right," Yukiko says absently, and then, "when you leave, I want to go too."

.

Yukiko stops at Tatsumi textiles after Yosuke says something about not wanting to be late for work, though it sounds more like "I don't want to get infected by his faggot disease". She doesn't give it much thought because Yosuke, Yosuke can be real awful sometimes and that's just the way he is, he's just a frustrated boy caught in a small-town world that's shrinking at the edges with each passing day.

"Yo, Yukiko-senpai," Kanji says. His voice catches on the _senpai_ in a faint hiss; he draws out the _yo _uncomfortably long into a breathless, singsong drawl that makes her want to hit him. "Long time, huh?"

"Yes," she says. "How have you been?"

"Oh," he says, and shrugs. He somehow manages to make the little motion theatrical, and it sets her teeth on edge. "The usual, y'know, beating off Yosuke ... er, Yosuke-senpai's shit, it gets so damn annoying, he's so much in denial, about everything, y'get? I mean, since Souji-senpai ain't coming back or nothing, so we might as well try to make the most of things the way they are."

"I suppose," Yukiko says automatically and resists the urge to correct his grammar. "He was in a real hurry to leave when I said I was going to visit you."

Kanji titters. "He still can't accept it," he tuts and Yukiko wonders what he means by _it_. She leaves, soon after.

.

Sometimes Yukiko misses Naoto, but she's been getting harder and harder to deal with because sometimes she gets the feeling Naoto doesn't want her around and then other times Yukiko can't pry her off her arm. Sometimes Naoto's calm and cold and lucid like she is now, going through what they know as though it'll help anything.

"I can't hear Yamato-Sumeragi any more," Naoto says and then Yukiko feels it too, the dull ... well, it's not really fear if she's not scared, is she? It's more like resignation sinking into her belly and seeping into her bones, like hearing Naoto say it has just confirmed all her suspicions. "How about you, Yukiko-senpai?"

When she closes her eyes and listens she knows Naoto's right because it's been a very long time since she's heard Amaterasu clearly, a long time since she's felt her persona's familiar warmth. Sometimes at night she wakes up cold and sweating and shivering, feeling feathers and silk across her skin. Just hallucinations and illusions, she thinks, maybe she's slowly losing her mind from the fog. Maybe what those crazy people said was right, after all, that the peace was just a front for something else.

"I," Naoto says and Yukiko's attention snaps back to her; her voice is higher now, plaintive and wavering. "I don't want to be alone, my persona was always there with me and now, now it's gone, it's left me, I don't want to be alone, you're all going to leave me, aren't you, it started with Souji-senpai and the rest of you are just going to go away and leave, aren't you? Yosuke-senpai keeps talking about wanting to go away and I know you want to leave too and soon everyone else will be gone and I'll be all alone-"

Maybe Yukiko feels guilty for leaving her then, but there's something in her that's turned its nose up and whispered, _Detective Princes should not act like that, it's so unseemly, what sort of prince is that, not charming at all-_

.

She visits Rise last.

"Oh, Yukiko-senpai," Rise trills and Yukiko smiles, relieved - even if the others have changed, Rise's still the same, right? The old exuberance, the old charm, the old - and oh, this is new, she thinks, when Rise's hand lingers longer than necessary on hers. "It's really nice of you to pop in, would you like some tofu?"

"Rise-chan," she says, and tries to pull away. "Rise-chan, how ... how have you been?"

Yukiko watches as she stacks tofu into a container, then another, and turns back to her.

"Oh," Rise says absently and she laces their fingers together, then takes off her apron and bandanna. "You know, the usual, the same old thing."

"I ... see," Yukiko says, watching as Rise takes off her work top, fingers skimming along the hem of her pink turtleneck. "Rise-chan, what are you doing?"

"Oh," Rise says again; her eyes look unfocused, yellow in the dim light of Marukyu Tofu. "Huh, what was I ... oh." She shrugs, vaguely, lets her hand fall limply to the side. "I dunno, I feel more comfortable like that, you see. It's such a drag, being all covered up like this. Don't you think so, Yukiko-senpai, isn't it so stuffy here? In this world? Wouldn't you like to go back?"

She draws out the word, stretching it into a petulant _draaaaaaaag_ and Yukiko stares dubiously at her. _Go back where,_ she wants to say but somehow it feels like a stupid question, like she knows what Rise's talking about in some part of her she doesn't realise. Rise seems to take her silence as an invitation because she starts unbutton Yukiko's cardigan, sliding her hands up under her shirt.

"Rise-chan," she says. The annoyance burns at the back of her throat; Rise's no prince, something in her says sourly, just more competition, more to watch out for, more-

Rise pushes right up against her; her breath tickles Yukiko's cheeks and Yukiko's suddenly aware of the press of Rise's breasts against hers, the hungry clench of Rise's fingers against her hipbone. "You shouldn't fight it, Yukiko-senpai," she says, her eyes narrowed. "You're not better than the rest of us, you know."

Yukiko shudders as Rise's teeth graze her jaw, her neck. The old anger is back but she doesn't feel like fighting, not any more.

Rise stops only when she begins to unbutton Yukiko's shirt and sees the scratches and the bruises. Yukiko can't read her expression but she's grateful, nonetheless, when Rise steps away, disappointed. "On your head be it, then, Yukiko-senpai," she says, and unceremoniously pushes the bag of tofu towards her.

.

"You've been to see the others," Chie says, accusatory. "Don't lie to me."

"And what if I have," Yukiko says. "It's nothing to you, is it?"

Chie's eyes narrow. She's been getting harder and harder to get along with but she's still Yukiko's best friend, still her first friend, still the only person she can depend on, right? Friends shouldn't abandon each other. Friends don't turn their backs on each other.

"You went to see Rise."

"Maybe," Yukiko says, then quails at the look in Chie's eyes. "What if I did?"

"I already said you shouldn't," Chie says. "They're different, they've all changed, you shouldn't be around them, you know."

The worst part is that she knows Chie's right, just like she knows the way Chie gets when she gets that _look_, the kind that makes Yukiko remember that yeah, Chie's got a point, Chie's the only one she can really depend on, now.

.

It didn't start out like this. Well, or maybe it did and it's just that she doesn't remember - doesn't _want _to remember. It started when things started turning strange and they started seeing Adachi in every corner and down every dark alley, when the sun faded to black and the cold clung to Inaba like a shroud. It started roughly around the same time as Naoto's tantrums and Kanji and Yosuke's bickering, the same time as when everything Rise said and did started to look suggestive, a prelude to something less innocent.

Chie pulls at the ropes, slides her hands down the cords and leans back to admire her work. "Red's always been your colour," she says. Yukiko's too embarrassed to look at herself, too infuriated. _This isn't any way to treat a princess, beg for forgiveness, how dare you, _something in her snarls but another part of her relishes the helplessness, the immobility, the blood pounding through her. How undignified she must look, she thinks, bound and trussed like a bird to be roasted - and it's only fitting, isn't it, punishment for a bad little bird that tried to fly away.

"You look so beautiful," Chie says. Yukiko doesn't know where she learnt it - the elaborate knots, the elegant criss-crosses, the neat lines across her skin. "You look good like this, you know, and it makes me feel better because, well, you can't fly away from me when you're like this. You're always going to be mine, aren't you?"

Yukiko shudders. "Chie," she says.

Chie grips her chin, nails digging into her jaw. Yukiko isn't quite sure when Chie started growing her nails out, when they got long enough to scratch into her skin, long enough to hurt. Her hands are cold, a cold burn that crawls into her bones. "You're always going to be mine," Chie repeats and Yukiko goes still because, oh, god, her voice has gone all soft and sweet in that way it only goes when she's trying to suppress something else. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," Yukiko breathes. The smile on Chie's face is gratifying; she leans in to kiss Yukiko and Yukiko's glad for the attention, glad for feeling wanted.

It doesn't last.

"To think," Chie says slowly, "what all those other poor princes would say now. Do you think they'd still want you? Do you think they're going to come charging in on their big white horses and whisk you away somewhere nice when they see what kind of princess you are?"

She threads her fingers through Yukiko's hair. "Red and black look so good on you," she murmurs. "You're so pretty, Yukiko. So, so pretty."

Sometimes, she's slower to undo the knots, slower to let Yukiko free. She's slower this time, too, and maybe it's to punish her for going to see the others, even when Chie said not to. It's worth it when Chie kisses her, though, but even then Chie likes it rough, likes to make it feel like they hate each other, like she hates Yukiko. Chie likes to bite and scratch and she's too rough, too fierce, too strong and Yukiko can't take it because, geez, she's not as strong as Chie is.

Chie always starts out gentle, so deceptively gentle. She slides her palm down Yukiko's face and down her neck and breasts, kisses her jaw and throat and then, then she scratches clean lines of red down Yukiko's back and across her shoulderblades, digs her nails into her hips and thighs. Sometimes she bites as well, leaves neat red crescents on her breasts and shoulders where the rope didn't chafe.

Yeah, well, Yukiko may be queen of Inaba, she may do whatever she wants but that's only as long as the sun is high, that's only as long as she can hear the faint whisper of Amaterasu, somewhere at the back of her skull. It all changes once the sun goes down and Chie's eyes are golden in the cast of the sickly-yellow moon.

When the lights go out and it's just the two of them, Chie's the one that does whatever she pleases; sometimes she ties Yukiko up and teases her until she swallows her pride and begs and then gets what she wanted and more than she bargained for, more than she ever wanted. Sometimes, she makes Yukiko do everything herself. Sometimes she does nothing and makes Yukiko ride her fingers and then pulls away before she's satisfied because - because she likes being in control, because although she's Yukiko's best friend and gentle and kind she's also cruel and bitter. Later, Yukiko understands, understands why she stays with Chie and it's because misery loves its company and really, that's what they are, anyway.


End file.
